George: All right, so, what do we do now?
Baldrick: Can I do my war poem?
Edmund: How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer, which is "No, I'd
rather French-kiss a skunk"?
Baldrick: So would I, sir!
Edmund: All right. Fire away, Baldrick.
Baldrick: "Hear the words I sing / War's a horrid thing / So I sing sing
sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling."
George: (applauding) Oh, bravo, yes!
Edmund: Yes. Well, it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle,
and the less said about the end, the better. But, apart than that,
excellent.
Baldrick: Oh, shall I do another one, then, sir?
Edmund: No -- we wouldn't want to exhaust you.
Baldrick: No, don't worry; I could go on all night.
Edmund: Not with a bayonet through your neck, you couldn't!
Baldrick: This one is called "The German Guns."
George: Oh, spiffing! Yes, let's hear that!
Baldrick: "Boom boom boom boom / Boom boom boom / BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM--
Edmund: "BOOM BOOM BOOM"?
Baldrick: How did you guess, sir?
George: I say, sir! That is spooky!